


The Arrangement

by magnificentbirb



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Background Seungwoo/Seungsik, M/M, kim wooseok for most savage yet supportive roommate, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnificentbirb/pseuds/magnificentbirb
Summary: It starts with a Craigslist ad:wanted: decently neat apartment to crash in for two weeks. sane residents preferred.





	The Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> ... oops?

It starts with a Craigslist ad: 

_wanted: decently neat apartment to crash in for two weeks. sane residents preferred. willing to cook and clean for my keep. can also provide booze and rent money. contact information below for best, handsomest temporary roommate you’ll ever find._

And then there was a cell phone number, with the caption “_texts only, who calls people anymore you heathen_,” and an email address: _pop-a-woodzy@gmail.com_

“You can’t really be considering this,” Wooseok says from his place lounging on the couch, laptop propped against his legs.

“Why not?” Hangyul says through a mouthful of pizza. “We could use the food. And the booze. And the extra rent.”

“And the handsome roommate?”

Hangyul glares at Wooseok over his own computer screen.

“The hypothetical handsomeness is not the point,” he says. “The point is helping our fellow man. And it’s only for a couple of weeks.”

“It’s your funeral,” Wooseok says with a shrug. “Don’t come crying to me when this guy turns out to be a fifty year-old serial killer who murders you in the middle of the night and then uses your skin as a jacket.”

“I worry about you,” Hangyul says.

*

College is tough. Balancing college and a part-time job at the student union is tougher. And balancing college and a part-time job at the student union and _still_ struggling to keep up with rent payments and food and utilities and all that crap is even tougher. 

So Hangyul decides to to recruit a new temporary roommate. (Because Yohan flaked on them to go abroad for the semester to get _cultured_ and _drink craft beer_ and _dance around in nightclubs and face-time them all at 12AM German time which is 6AM here and goddamn it that’s sleeping time_ and so now they’re down one third of the rent payment this fall.)

Hangyul takes a while to compose the introductory text message. He flops on his bed, phone in hand, and enters the number listed in the Craigslist ad. 

_hey_, he types, and then immediately deletes it. Too boring.

_so i saw your ad on craigslist_, he tries again, and that sounds oddly better, so he keeps going: _we’re down a roommate for a semester so we have an extra room and a bit of a need for rent. thoughts?_

And then Hangyul puts his phone down and rolls onto his back. There’s a weird stain on his ceiling. He wonders vaguely how long that’s been there.

His phone vibrates.

_sounds intriguing_, is the response, and then a mere few seconds later: _how many roommates?_

_just me and my friend who’s a senior_, Hangyul responds. The fewer details he gives about Wooseok, the better… probably. Wooseok joked about Hangyul getting murdered by this mystery roommate, but the likelier candidate for Future Murderer Extraordinaire is honestly Wooseok himself.

He’ll crack someday. Hangyul can sense it.

_i’m hangyul by the way_, sends Hangyul, realizing he forgot to say that earlier.

The next message comes quickly: _hi hangyul! i’m seungyoun. where’s the apartment?_

Hangyul freezes, staring at his phone.

_Seungyoun._

A face comes to mind, a very handsome face, a _senior’s_ face, seen across the lecture hall of his history seminar every Tuesday and Thursday since the start of the semester.

It can’t be the same Seungyoun… can it?

In a slight panic, Hangyul sends their address, trying to stop his heart from thudding out of his chest like an idiot.

_prime location_, comes the response. _i’m doubly intrigued. how normal would you say you are?_

_on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being certifiable?_ Hangyul pauses again after sending that message, thinking semi-deep thoughts about honesty and all that, and still trying not to panic or get his hopes up too high, because _oh my god_, and then he sends, _probably a 6._

Hangyul taps his fingernails against the edges of his phone as he waits, watching the three little dots that indicate Seungyoun is typing.

_perfect_, comes the response. _when can we meet?_

And that’s when Hangyul lets out a scream, inciting a response of “WHAT THE HELL” from Wooseok down the hall.

*

Turns out Seungyoun is, in fact, _that_ Seungyoun, which means he wasn’t lying when he described himself as the handsomest temporary roommate Hangyul would ever find.

They meet at the student union just after Hangyul’s lunch shift finishes up, so Hangyul is sweaty and covered in coffee stains and feels like lying down for the next ten hours or so, but his phone lights up with a cheery _i’m here!_ and he can’t really avoid it anymore.

Then his phone lights up again, and this time it’s a photo. A selfie, to be exact. A selfie of a handsome young man with soft dark hair beneath an artfully placed orange beanie, who’s making a stupidly cute squish face at the camera, and, based on the background of the photo, clearly sitting in the student union.

“Goddamn he’s hot,” Hangyul whispers to himself, eyes wide as he stares at the selfie.

Honestly, it’s just not fair.

Hangyul swipes the visor from his head and ruffles a hand over his hair, trying to coax some sort of volume back into it. He removes his apron and stuffs both visor and apron into his bag. Then he lets out a breath, slings the bag over his shoulder, and heads out from behind the counter to find his history class crush.

Seungyoun is sitting at a table in the corner, scrolling on his phone. Hangyul only has to pause for a moment before he musters the courage to step up to him.

“Seungyoun?” he asks, and why is his voice doing that thing where it’s suddenly weirdly high?

Seungyoun looks up from his phone with a bright smile, and Hangyul’s entire heart swells until he can’t really breathe.

_Aw, shit._

“Hangyul, right?” Seungyoun stands and offers a hand, and Hangyul stares at it for a too-long moment before realizing that he’s supposed to shake that hand, and so he does. He hopes his palms aren’t sweaty.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he says. “How, uh. How’re you?" 

“Fine, thanks.” Seungyoun is still smiling. It’s definitely not fair. He waves a hand at the chair across from him. “Have a seat. We have a history course together, right? Tuesdays and Thursdays?" 

“Yeah,” Hangyul says with a weird little laugh, his stomach swooping slightly. (Because _oh my god_ Seungyoun recognizes him.) “Yeah, we do. I thought I recognized your name.” 

He must’ve succeeded in playing that off cool, because Seungyoun doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt just yet. They sit, and Hangyul suddenly has no idea what to say. What the hell is happening to his brain? 

“So my roommate’s boyfriend is coming into town for a couple of weeks,” Seungyoun says, saving Hangyul from needing to find something to say, thank god, “and I like to clear out, if I can, to avoid any potential… awkwardness. If you catch my drift.” 

“Avoiding apartment sex,” Hangyul says with a nod, thinking back on months of rooming with Wooseok. “I can understand that.” 

“Well, that’s the whole story,” Seungyoun says. “Not very exciting, in the end. So just you and your roommate, then?” 

“Yep, just me and Wooseok,” Hangyul says. “Our other roommate bailed on us for the semester to galavant around Europe, so you’ll be taking his room.” 

“Sounds good.” Seungyoun pauses, pressing his lips together thoughtfully. “So, uh. Anything else we need to cover here? Rent?” 

“It’s about $200 per month for each of us, so we’ll ask you for about… $150? If that’s okay?" 

“Very okay,” Seungyoun says with a smile. “And I’m still willing to cook and clean and provide booze. Deal?” 

“Deal,” Hangyul says, grinning, and then they shake on it. 

Seungyoun’s hand is warm. 

Hangyul thinks he might just be a bit fucked. 

*

“He’s hot,” Wooseok says over coffee on Day 2 of The Arrangement. 

Hangyul jolts, choking on his own scalding hot coffee. 

“Wha—what do you—” 

“Don’t be coy,” Wooseok says, slanting a narrow-eyed glance at Hangyul and looking entirely unsympathetic to his coughing fit. “It’s impossible to miss. Did you do that on purpose?" 

“I didn’t know what he looked like when I responded to the ad, you ass,” Hangyul says, eyes watering. “Hotness wasn’t the only criteria." 

“Oh, so it was _one_ criterion,” Wooseok says, and Hangyul knows he just subtly corrected his grammar, but you know what, Wooseok can suck his— 

“Good morning.” 

Seungyoun comes into the kitchen, hair still a bit damp from the shower, shrugging into a flannel shirt. 

“Morning,” Wooseok says with a tight-lipped smile. “Coffee?” 

“I’d love some, but I’m actually running a bit late, so—” 

“One sec.” Hangyul puts down his own mug and scrambles for a to-go mug. He knows Wooseok is watching him, can feel those judgmental eyes on his back, but he ignores him. He’s being nice, damnit. Seungyoun has been a good roommate thus far (_all one and a half days he’s been there_), and he deserves coffee. 

“Here you go,” Hangyul says once the to-go mug is full and steaming. 

Seungyoun looks a bit startled, but also pleased. He takes the mug with a grin. 

“Thanks, Hangyul,” he says. “I’ll see you in class later.” And then he bids them both good-bye, and Hangyul is left waving at the closing door while Wooseok stares daggers at his back from across the counter. 

“Oh shut up,” Hangyul mutters to his roommate, and then takes his still-too-hot coffee into his room to stew in embarrassed silence until his shift begins. 

* 

The thing is—the _truly annoying_ thing is—that Seungyoun turns out to be a really fucking good roommate. He cleans up after himself, he cooks them all dinner, his bed is always made, and the beer fridge is always stocked. It’s honestly incredible and entirely unfair. 

The only weird thing Hangyul has noticed about Cho Seungyoun in the past five days of The Arrangement is that sometimes, well… 

He doesn’t really sleep. 

Hangyul wakes at two in the morning on the fifth night of The Arrangement to a soft glow coming from the living room and the low rumble of something on the television. Confused, he fumbles for his phone and squints at the time. Too late for Wooseok (_that man keeps to his weeknight sleep schedule like a sunovabitch_), so it must be Seungyoun. 

Should Hangyul go see if he’s okay? Or is that out of line? They’re basically still strangers, no matter that they live together now, however temporarily, and know each other from class. Would Seungyoun even want company this late at night? And what if he’s actually asleep already and the TV is just on accidentally and Hangyul goes into the living room and ends up finding a really hot guy sleeping on his couch? 

Hangyul is out of bed and tip-toeing to his door before that thought is even over. He curses himself silently, because he didn’t actually want to be that creepy, but then he’s quietly opening his door and peeking into the living room and there’s Seungyoun, curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped in a blanket, drowsy eyes fixed on his phone despite the cool silvery light of the television highlighting his face. 

Hangyul must make some noise or another, because Seungyoun looks up at him, sleepily confused, and then his face breaks into a beautiful smile and Hangyul’s cheeks go warm. 

“Sorry,” Seungyoun says quietly, “did I wake you? I can turn it off, I just couldn’t—” 

“No, no, it’s okay, I just… I woke up,” Hangyul says, rubbing the back of his neck. His hair is standing up in all directions, he knows it is, but it’s too late to fix it now; Seungyoun’s already seen. 

“Okay,” Seungyoun said. “Would you, uh… would you like to sit? For a while?” 

“... Sure.” Hangyul steps over to the couch and settles carefully a comfortable distance away from Seungyoun. Even then, even a couple of feet or so away, Hangyul can tell they’re close, can sense Seungyoun’s feet curled beside his leg on the couch, can see how a few of the wayward hairs over Seungyoun’s ear curl as though in humidity. 

“So what’re you watching?” Hangyul asks, just to break the silence. 

Seungyoun blinks at the television, brow furrowing slightly. “You know, I have no idea.” He grabs the remote from the coffee table and hands it to Hangyul. “Feel free to switch it.” 

Hangyul doesn’t switch it, instead just fiddles with the remote in his lap. 

“Have you been settling in okay?” he asks, keeping his voice low. 

Seungyoun smiles at him. “I have, thank you. How’ve you liked the meals?” 

“I feel incredibly spoiled,” Hangyul says with a grin. “Do you… could you not sleep?” 

“Eh.” Seungyoun waves a hand. “Insomnia comes and goes. I’ve decided to work on some writing instead.” He waves his phone at Hangyul, and Hangyul can see a word processing app of some sort open on the screen. 

“What do you write?” Hangyul asks. 

“Currently?” Seungyoun grins. “A shopping list. But I write lyrics sometimes when I’m bored. Nothing too interesting.” 

“Sure sounds interesting,” Hangyul says. He watches Seungyoun sidelong, trying not to seem too obvious about it. It’s just… he’s so hot. It’s rather impossible not to stare at least a little bit. 

“How about you?” Seungyoun says. “Why are you up and about at 2AM?” 

Hangyul opens his mouth to respond, and then finds that he can’t. He has no real reason for being awake this early (_this late?_). Is he stressed? Did he really wake up because he subconsciously heard that Seungyoun was awake? 

“I, uh. I don’t know, actually,” Hangyul says with a weird nervous laugh. _Ah yes, that’s charming._ “Usually I sleep straight through the night, I just… Didn’t this time. I guess.” 

“Well, you’re free to hang here with me in the meantime,” Seungyoun says, and Hangyul’s heart trills. 

They sit like that for a while, in comfortable silence, as Seungyoun types away on his phone and Hangyul watches the television without really watching it. 

It’s late. And Hangyul has class in the morning. And he’s trying very hard not to be super distracted by the way Seungyoun keeps running his hand through his hair to push it out of his face. 

But… it’s nice. 

*

“_Owfuck_,” Hangyul says. 

“Sorry about that,” says the nurse, but she doesn’t sound very sorry at all. She tugs the wrap tighter around his ankle, deft hands working faster than Hangyul can watch with his head still kind of spinning. “How’s your arm?” 

“Hurts less than my ankle,” Hangyul says, glancing down at the gauze covering the giant scrape on his right forearm. He can still feel it tingling under the gauze and tape, raw and full of antiseptic. 

“It’s a good thing you were wearing a helmet,” the nurse says. She glances up at his forehead. “You’ll still have a nice bruise on your forehead, but it could’ve been much worse. Do you have someone who can come pick you up? I’m not sure you should get back on that bike.” 

“Uhhh.” Hangyul squints at the top of the nurse’s head. 

“It says your emergency contact is Kim Wooseok?” says another nurse, checking the chart at the end of his bed. 

“He’s in class right now,” Hangyul says. “And my other roommate is in Europe… Maybe Yuvin?” 

The nurse hands him his phone (_ugh, the screen is cracked, that’s gonna suck_). “Here you go, hun.” 

Hangyul unlocks his phone and scrolls through his contacts until he finds Yuvin, then presses call and puts the phone to his ear. 

It rings. 

And rings. 

And rings some more. 

“Goddamnit, Yuvin,” Hangyul mutters as the call finally goes to voicemail. 

“Anyone else you can try?” asks the nurse wrapping his ankle. She finally finishes up and pins the wrap at the top so that it stays put. 

Hangyul stares down at his phone. His recent calls are kind of sad. Yuvin, Wooseok, his mom, Wooseok again, Yohan, a few spam calls, his favorite takeout place, and then— 

_Cho Seungyoun._

Hangyul’s thumb hovers over Seungyoun’s contact. He’s only really known Seungyoun for eight days, at this point (not counting the vague crush he’s had since the beginning of the semester). Is that long enough for Hangyul to call him from the hospital after having a bicycle accident…? 

“Here you go, kiddo,” says the nurse, handing him a few painkillers, and Hangyul jumps. Unfortunately, when he jumps, his thumb brushes the screen and calls Cho Seungyoun. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fumbling to hang up while simultaneously trying not to drop his precious painkillers, but before he manages to cut off the call, he hears a quiet voice through the speaker say, “_Hello? Hangyul?_” 

Hangyul hastily raises the phone to his ear. 

“Hello? Hi,” he says intelligently. 

“_What’s up?_” Seungyoun says. He sounds genuinely curious. “_You missed class today. I was wondering where you were._” 

Oh right. It’s Thursday, isn’t it? 

“I, uh. I hurt myself?” Hangyul says. The nurse gives him a deadpan look that he returns with a lopsided grin. 

“_What? How bad?_” Seungyoun now actually sounds concerned, and Hangyul has no idea how to handle that, so he lets out an awkward laugh. 

“Yeah, I kinda… fell off my bike. Sprained my ankle and bled a bit and might have a bruise on my face but I haven’t been able to see it yet.” 

“_Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need someone to bring you to the hospital?_” 

“I’m actually already at the hospital, but the nurses don’t want me to bike home, so I… I kinda need a ride…” 

“_Which hospital?_” 

“Wh—what?” Hangyul blinks. “Oh, uh. Memorial. Wait, are you really coming?” 

“_Of course I am._” Hangyul hears keys jingling from the other side of the line. “_Hang tight, I’ll be there in ten._” 

And he is. 

Seungyoun enters the emergency room in sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a baseball cap and heads straight for Hangyul, looking worried. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Hangyul says, staring in slight awe at Seungyoun. He looks like he might’ve just woken up from a nap, but he’s still unfairly attractive, and Hangyul is suddenly overly aware of the bandages on his arm and his thickly wrapped ankle and the dirt and bruises on his face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He pauses, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “How’re you?" 

What a dumb question. 

“I’m fine,” Seungyoun says with a little laugh. “Jeez, you’re a mess. What the hell did you do?” 

“I’ll tell you what I didn’t do, and that’s kill a squirrel.” 

Seungyoun grinned. “Well, that’s a relief. Are you all signed out and ready to go?” 

“I think so,” Hangyul says with a quick glance at his nurse across the room, who gives him a nod. He hops off the edge of the hospital bed and immediately regrets it when his ankle throbs and threatens to give beneath his weight. 

Luckily, Seungyoun is there to catch him before he topples over, and Hangyul ends up with one arm around Seungyoun’s shoulders and Seungyoun’s arm looped around his waist. 

“C’mon, o great protector of squirrels, let’s get you home so you can rest,” Seungyoun says. “Where’s your bike?” 

“Outside,” Hangyul says. “It’s kinda dead.” 

“We should probably bring it home for the funeral, then.” 

Hangyul can tell that his cheeks are flaming, and he catches the eye of his nurse as he and Seungyoun three-legged race out the door. She flashes him a grin and a thumbs up and mouths _Good boyfriend_ at him, and Hangyul quickly turns away, his heart thudding hard in his chest. 

_Shit, shit, shit._

* 

Hangyul is limping through the living room in a robe post-shower, rubbing a towel over his hair, when he sees a phone light up from its spot on the coffee table. Out of habit, he leans over to see the screen, lit with a text notification: 

_From: Seungwoo-hyung_

_seungsik headed out today so i’m already drinking. when will you be home?_

Hangyul quickly leans back, his heart in his throat. Not his phone, not his business. He hurries away, frantically fluffing his hair with the towel. 

_when will you be home?_

It must be Seungyoun’s phone. Hangyul doesn’t know anyone named Seungwoo, and he doesn’t think Wooseok does, either. And who would be asking for either of them to come home? They _are_ home. This apartment is home. But for Seungyoun, a different apartment is home. And he has different roommates, who would definitely be asking when their wonderful roommate Seungyoun is coming home. 

Because who wouldn’t miss Seungyoun? 

Hangyul lets out a long breath, letting the towel hang around his neck. 

It’s been ten days since The Arrangement started. Hangyul is supposed to have four more days of Seungyoun as a roommate. He knows this was always going to be a temporary arrangement, but Seungyoun has been _so stupidly nice_, and also _so stupidly attractive_, that the idea of losing him four whole days early makes Hangyul feel slightly… cheated. 

Maybe… maybe he can hide the text message, even if just for a few hours, until this Seungwoo person tries to text again. Maybe he can get at least _part_ of those four days back… 

Hangyul is already halfway back to the living room before he realizes how stupid and irriational that plan is, and he’s prepared to turn right back around and have a bit of a shame-mope in his room when a voice calls his name. 

“Hangyul!” 

Hangyul freezes, then turns around to smile at Seungyoun, who’s standing in the living room with his phone. 

“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” Seungyoun says, shoving the phone into his pocket. “I didn’t get a chance to run to the grocery store today, so I won’t be much use in the kitchen, unfortunately.” 

“Oh, uh… sure,” says Hangyul. “Let’s do it.” 

“Great,” Seungyoun says with a smile. “I’ll text Wooseok, too.” 

Hangyul’s heart sinks a bit at that, but he chooses to ignore it. 

“Yep, sounds good. I’ll go—I’ll get dressed, I guess.” 

So Hangyul does, and while he tugs on some jeans, he wonders why Seungyoun didn’t mention the text message at all. 

* 

Day Twelve of The Arrangement, and Seungyoun still hasn’t said anything about the text message, and he’s still living in Yohan’s room. 

Hangyul watches him carefully over the pages of his history textbook, eyes narrowed. Seungyoun is on his computer across the room, doing… something… and all Hangyul can think about is why he hasn’t mentioned yet that he apparently has a sexless apartment to go home to now. 

“How many days are left in our arrangement?” Hangyul blurts out, and then immediately winces, because wow, that sounds like he _wants_ Seungyoun to leave. 

Seungyoun blinks at him. “Um. Two, I think? Unless you’d like to cancel it early.” 

“No, no, that came out wrong, you’re good,” Hangyul says with an anxious flap of his hand. “It just feels like it’s gone quickly, that’s all.” 

“It does.” Seungyoun smiles, and does he look a little sad, or is Hangyul just projecting? “It’s been fun. I hope you know how much I’ve appreciated you guys letting me stay here.” 

“Are you kidding?” Hangyul says bluntly. “I’m tempted to keep you and tell Yohan to just stay in Europe for another semester or four.” 

Seungyoun laughs, and when Hangyul realizes how close to the truth that statement was, his cheeks flush, and he quickly shoves his face into his textbook in an attempt to hide. 

“I guess I’ll just have to visit, then.” 

Hangyul buries his face even deeper into the pages, as though the thrilling saga of the Napoleonic wars could cool down the heat glowing on his cheeks. 

“You’re always welcome,” he says, just loud enough that he knows Seungyoun will hear him. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, and then Hangyul hears Seungyoun shift, but instead of packing up to leave the room, as Hangyul kind of expected, Seungyoun plops down on the couch beside Hangyul and tugs down the history book. 

“Quiz on Tuesday,” Seungyoun says, tapping a finger against the pages of the history book. “Wanna review the chapters together?” 

“Yes,” Hangyul says, and if Seungyoun is at all put off by how ardently Hangyul wants to study with him, then he doesn’t show it. 

* 

Seungyoun moves out on the morning of Day 14 of The Arrangement. 

Hangyul sits at the counter, nursing a cup of coffee as he watches Seungyoun sling his duffel bag over his shoulder. There’s a weird heaviness in his chest, but he tries to ignore it. It’s silly. There’s no reason he should be sad about this, it’s only been two weeks, _this is so silly._

It’s just… he can’t quite shake the feeling that he might’ve missed out on something. 

“I think that’s everything,” Seungyoun says. “There are leftovers in the fridge, and the rent check is on the counter. You need anything else from me?” 

_A few more weeks of being roommates_, Hangyul thinks, his cheek resting on his fist. _Maybe a date. Or even a ki—_

“I think we’re good,” Wooseok says. He salutes Seungyoun from his place curled up on the armchair. “Thanks for being a better roommate than my actual roommates.” 

“Hey,” Hangyul says with a frown. 

“I’ll see you guys around, okay?” Seungyoun says with a smile. “Thanks again.” 

“See you,” Hangyul says, and then Seungyoun is gone. 

* 

“Stop sighing,” Wooseok says on the third day after Seungyoun left. 

“I’m not sighing,” Hangyul lies, shoulders hunched over his laptop. 

“Are you still moping because Seungyoun is gone?” 

“I’m not moping either,” Hangyul lies again, hunching further. 

“Oh my god, Hangyul, you have his phone number. Text him and ask him out.” 

“What?” Hangyul splutters, fingers smashing against the computer keys. 

“You know you want to.” 

“I _know_ I want to, how do _you_ know I want to?” 

Wooseok slants Hangyul a Look. 

“_Fine_, fine, I’ll text him.” Hangyul closes his laptop and trudges into his room. 

“And remember, no glove, no love!” 

Hangyul slams his door shut. 

* 

**[10:02:03] frogman:** _you awake?_

**[10:02:54] woodz:** _of course i am, it’s 10pm_  
**[10:02:59] woodz:** _what’s up?_

**[10:03:25] frogman:** _we ordered takeout for the first time in a while tonight_  
**[10:03:29] frogman:** _felt weird_

**[10:04:11] woodz:** _aw man_  
**[10:04:15] woodz:** _something good at least?_

**[10:04:31] frogman:** _chinese_  
**[10:04:45] frogman:** _at least wooseok didn’t try to murder me with spice again_

**[10:05:46] woodz:** _he’s a little scary isn’t he_

**[10:05:58] frogman:** _you have no idea_

**[10:07:02] woodz:** _hey how’s your ankle?_

**[10:07:46] frogman:** _still stiff and pretty swollen but i think it’s healing okay_  
**[10:07:59] frogman:** _thanks again for picking me up that day_  
**[10:08:03] frogman:** _it was really cool of you_

**[10:08:41] woodz:** _i was happy to do it_  
**[10:08:46] woodz:** _i’m mostly just glad you were okay_

**[10:12:33] frogman:** _so this might seem kinda random but_  
**[10:12:39] frogman:** _would you ever be interested in grabbing a drink_  
**[10:12:42] frogman:** _just the two of us_

**[10:14:21] woodz:** _i’d love to_  
**[10:14:21] woodz:** _tomorrow night too soon?_

* 

“You look sexy,” Wooseok declares from his usual spot curled up in the armchair. He even pauses reading his book, resting it page down over his knee. 

Hangyul fusses some more with his hair, trying to see his reflection in the door of the microwave. 

“You don’t think it’s too much?” he says. 

“Nah, your chest is one of your high points, and, as a certain famous movie teen would say, you look sexy with your hair pushed back.” 

“Cool,” Hangyul says, trying to fix this one piece of hair that just won’t _sit_. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.” 

“I’m here for you,” Wooseok says, lifting his book once more. “Now go seduce that senior.” 

“For some reason when you say it like that it sounds like I’m trying to seduce an old man.” 

Wooseok shrugs without looking up from his book. “Everybody has their thing.” 

And then there’s a knock on the door and Hangyul is thoroughly distracted by trying not to panic as he tugs the door open to reveal Seungyoun, clad in dark jeans and a black button-up and oh, hell, he _also_ looks sexy with his hair pushed back. 

“Hi,” Hangyul breathes, unable to keep from smiling, because his history class crush is _here_, his handsome temporary roommate is _back_, and he’s here for _him_, and oh god what if Hangyul’s heart just bursts right out of his chest and onto the tacky welcome mat Yohan bought as a gift on their first day as roommates, that probably wouldn’t be attractive at all. 

“Hey,” Seungyoun says, returning the smile. “You ready?” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” Hangyul tries to usher Seungyoun out, but Seungyoun gives him a sly grin and hollers, “BYE, WOOSEOK” over Hangyul’s shoulder. 

“Bye, Seungyoun! Have him back by curfew!” is the response he gets, and Hangyul yells, “THANKS, MOM,” before closing the door behind them. 

“So,” Seungyoun says, and then he reaches a hand over to lace his fingers with Hangyul’s, and it’s so unbearably confident and sweet and Hangyul really might need to say good-bye to his healthy heart tonight, because he doesn’t know if he can put up with this for an entire date. “Where to?” 

“Literally anywhere with booze,” Hangyul says, and Seungyoun laughs. 

“Consider it done,” he says, and then he leads Hangyul down the hall and into the balmy fall evening, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world for Hangyul to follow. 

* 


End file.
